Page 96 of Bucked Hard

I sigh and raise my eyebrows, shaking my head with a mixture of disapproval and adoration, then turn away to return to my post. Luther’s lips pull back and he shoots me a disapproving smirk, and I feel the heat rise on my cheeks.

“Wait…come back here.”

I spin at the sound of Ranger’s voice, and I find him adjusting his hat. I know I’m being watched, but I don’t care. Ranger nods his head, indicating for me to come closer, and my belly flutters as I move immediately to obey, walking back to the booth. His eyebrows draw together.

“What?” I ask.

“Come here,” he orders, and I lean in, the heels of my hands taking the edge of the table to counterbalance my weight.

“Right here.” He licks his lips and lowers his chin, another nod to come closer.

“I’mhere,” I whisper, taking a glance over my shoulder to see Luther busy behind the service counter.

“What have you eaten since you left my place?” His voice is thick with sincere concern.

“I’ll eat when my shift is over. Not allowed to eat while I work.” I lower my voice when I see he’s not happy with that answer.

“Then your shift is over. Sit down.” Fire lights his eyes as he slides out of the booth and points toward the seat, practically lifting me up to place me down where he was sitting.

“I can’t,” I return, struggling to get back on my feet.

His hand slams down on the table, making my heart jump into my throat.

“Stay.” His other arm blocks the opening to the booth, and Luther comes out from behind the service counter.

“You working?” he calls over, with no attempt to hide his annoyance.

“Yes,” I snap back, staring at Ranger, defying him.

Ranger doesn’t even seem to notice my answer. “No. She’s not. Not until she gets time to eat.” He stands and turns to look at Luther. “She’s been here a full shift, and she’s not allowed to eat? In a fucking diner?” The depth of his voice shakes me to my bones. He’s not kidding, and at once, I shrink myself back into the cushion of the booth.

“Rules are rules, Stoddard. She’s only got an hour, then she can—”

Ranger looks over his shoulder. “What do you want to eat?” he asks, the muscles in the backs of his arms hardening.

“I don’t know.” My mind goes blank.

“Good. I’ll order for you, then.” He turns to look back at Luther, who now has his arms crossed over his chest. His lips are tight, too, staring me down with raised eyebrows, but I have nothing to do with any of this. And besides, Ranger’s right. It’s not fair that I haven’t had a break. Ranger doesn’t miss a beat. “Don’t youeverfucking look at her like that. And her name is Maria. That’s the only way you are to address her, got me?”

The three other patrons in the diner are silent, not looking our way but clearly riveted to the unfolding scene.

“I’ll look at her however I damn well please. I’ll call her whatever I damn well please. I don’t know what this is between the two of you, and I don’t much care. She works for me.”

“And if you want her to keep working for you, then you’re going to get your ass back in that kitchen and make her a double cheeseburger, sweet potato fries, a vanilla milkshake, and a pitcher of water. Otherwise, she is no longer in your employ, and I think the Department of Labor and OSHA might be interested in the fact that your employees aren’t allowed a meal break on an eight-hour shift. That you use harassing terms when you address them. I do think a phone call to those folks might be in order. And, not to mention, the Food and Consumer Safety Department might be interested in the way you let that scroungy mutt of yours clean the floors in the kitchen.”

Luther only gives Ranger another quick look before muttering under his breath and retreating to the kitchen. A moment later, I hear the muffled sound of him barking orders at the line cook.

“Get used to it, Little Bit. I’m here to take care of you. All of you. You didn’t get enough sleep last night. That’s thanks to me. So you need to eat. And drink lots of water.” Ranger steps alongside the booth and takes off his hat, hanging it on the hook on the side of the booth. “Now scoot that sweet ass over.”

He slips in next to me, draping his long arm across my shoulders and pulling me against him. His other hand comes across his lap to touch the top of my thigh, and bolts of invisible lightning zap upward, tightening my belly. My pulse races as he pushes his fingertips upward, under my skirt, until they are able to dance on the outside of my already damp panties.

“Open your legs.” That gravel-road voice elicits a helpless sound from my throat as his fingers apply downward pressure against my slit. I can do nothing but obey, already following his directive and spreading myself open for him.

My eyelids flutter as he brushes up and down on the outside of the crotch of my panties, creating just the right amount of friction to make my body hum. Slowly, up and down, up and down until I’m ready to come apart. I grip the edge of the table as his lips brush the lobe of my ear, his tongue flicking out and lapping at the soft, sensitive skin as he whispers, “You are a good girl. My good girl.”

A single digit pushes inside my panties, and he’s immediately on my clit. Pressing down, then circling and circling. Harder and faster until I’m finished.

He catches my cries in a kiss as my body involuntarily floods his hand. I jerk and twitch as two fingers slide inside me, his rough hand palming the entirety of my vagina in a sign of possessive ownership.

---